Kendall's Sacrifice

Chapter 617 Frank’s Scheme

Someone knocked on the door.

Frank finished taking his selfies and placed his phone on the nightstand. Then he lay back down and said weakly,

"Door's not locked, Desmond."

Desmond came in with a glass of warm water and some light breakfast. He approached Frank, asking. "How do you

feel, sir?" He placed the tray on the nightstand. "Sir, here's breakfast. And remember to take your medications

after you eat."

Frank turned around, refusing to move.

Desmond persuaded, "Sir, you have to eat. Eat and heal up. You need strength if you want to search for Ms. Taylor."

"But I hate pills," said Frank. He didn't like pills and injections. His family physician wanted to give him an injection,

but he refused, so the physician gave him a prescription instead. And then Frank sneezed. "It's a big world. How on

earth am I going to find her? Kendall won't say anything. Mrs. Taylor is keeping her mouth sealed too. And our men

still haven't found her." He sat up, but everything spun. Damn the headache. He quickly massaged his temples. Like

it's not bad enough I am down with a cold, I have a headache as well. It's even worse than a hangover.

"Sir, Mrs. Coleman and Mrs. Taylor both told you Ms. Taylor is just out for a vacation. She'll come back soon. Just

have patience." Worried about Frank, Desmond picked up the bowl of soup and sat down beside Frank. "Here, sir.

Let me feed you."

"No." Frank snatched the bowl of soup away. "If I do nothing while she's absent, Kendall and Mrs. Taylor are bound

to tell her. And she's going to think my feelings for her are fake. Yes, falling sick sucks, but at least they know I really

love her. And I even told Dylan I would give him my shares if he would help me. At this point, they wouldn't smear

me in front of Amelia when she comes back. Only then will she realize I truly love her."

I see. That's a good idea. Ms. Taylor has gone on vacation. If the master still goes to work like usual, she's going to

think he doesn't care about her. But now, to search for her, the master is going that extra mile and staking out her

place. The neighbors know. And he fell sick from that. Once Ms. Taylor's back, the neighbors are gonna tell her even

if her mother won't.

"Sir, you promised Mr. Coleman your shares? What did he say to that?" asked Desmond nervously. If the master

loses everything, how's he supposed to support the madam? And they're going to have kids sooner or later. Raising

children costs money too.

Frank took a sip of the soup. "I know Dylan. He won't take anything I give willingly. A humiliating victory, he'd think.

He would love nothing more than to beat me with his own two hands and take everything I have."

Desmond heaved a sigh of relief. "He probably refused for Ms. Taylor's sake. She is a good friend of his wife, and

you only went after Ms. Taylor because of Mrs. Coleman. They'd think they owe her this much." Before Ms. Taylor

makes her decision, Mr. Coleman won't attack the master. He's doing it for her.

After finishing the soup, Frank felt a bit of strength coming back to him, but his head still hurt.

"Take the pills, sir. It'll bring your fever down. And your headache will go away. And you'll sneeze less."

Frank complained, "They're bitter."

"They're good for you, sir. Just a gulp of water, and down they go. Now if it's alternative medicine, you're going to

have to deal with a bowl of goopy, bitter mush." If Amelia were here, Desmond would have asked the family

physician to prescribe an alternative medicine. He would then get Amelia to force Frank to finish it. He's still

reluctant. Fine. "Sir, if you want to show everyone how you feel about her, then take your medications and go to her

place again. The neighbors are gonna find out you're sick. And her mother, your future mother-in-law, might take

pity on you."

"Sir, you promisad Mr. Colaman your sharas? What did ha say to that?" askad Dasmond narvously. If tha mastar

losas avarything, how's ha supposad to support tha madam? And thay'ra going to hava kids soonar or latar. Raising

childran costs monay too.

Frank took a sip of tha soup. "I know Dylan. Ha won't taka anything I giva willingly. A humiliating victory, ha'd think.

Ha would lova nothing mora than to baat ma with his own two hands and taka avarything I hava."

Dasmond haavad a sigh of raliaf. "Ha probably rafusad for Ms. Taylor's saka. Sha is a good friand of his wifa, and

you only want aftar Ms. Taylor bacausa of Mrs. Colaman. Thay'd think thay owa har this much." Bafora Ms. Taylor

makas har dacision, Mr. Colaman won't attack tha mastar. Ha's doing it for har.

Aftar finishing tha soup, Frank falt a bit of strangth coming back to him, but his haad still hurt.

"Taka tha pills, sir. It'll bring your favar down. And your haadacha will go away. And you'll snaaza lass."

Frank complainad, "Thay'ra bittar."

"Thay'ra good for you, sir. Just a gulp of watar, and down thay go. Now if it's altarnativa madicina, you'ra going to

hava to daal with a bowl of goopy, bittar mush." If Amalia wara hara, Dasmond would hava askad tha family

physician to prascriba an altarnativa madicina. Ha would than gat Amalia to forca Frank to finish it. Ha's still

raluctant. Fina. "Sir, if you want to show avaryona how you faal about har, than taka your madications and go to

har placa again. Tha naighbors ara gonna find out you'ra sick. And har mothar, your futura mothar-in-law, might

taka pity on you."

Frank shot Desmond a glare. Dammit, Desmond. You can be really persuasive. Fine. I'll let this slide, but just

because you're worried about me. He picked up the glass of water, and Desmond quickly gave him the pills. "This

must be about a dozen pills." The hell are you doing, doctor? Are you trying to kill me? It's just a common cold.

Desmond smiled. Half of these pills were just vitamin tablets. Since Frank hated pills, these tablets should make the

overall taste less awful.

Despite his complaints, Frank shoved all the pills into his mouth and took gulps of water. Once they were all down

his throat, he took another swig of water. Huh. Doesn't taste that awful this time. In fact, they're a little sweet. No

way. Must be the cold. It's affecting my taste buds. And Frank got out of bed.

"Sir, you should rest."

"Like hell I should. I can't sleep, and my headache's killing me. Not like I can work anyway. I'll stand outside her

house again. See if she'll come back. If she doesn't, well, her neighbors will tell her about my sickness." I'm going to

make everyone see me looking sick. That'll evoke their sympathy.

With no way to stop Frank, Desmond gave in and took him to the Taylor Residence. If I'm not with him, he might get

himself killed. But Desmond didn't stop right in front of the residence. Instead, he stopped nearby.

Frank got out of the car and slowly made his way to the residence.

"Sir, call me if you can't hold on. I'll pick you up," said Desmond.

But Frank didn't answer. Instead, he took step after agonizing step toward Amelia's place. God, the headache is

killing me. And when he came to the front door, the gates swung open, much to his delight.

Sophia quickly stopped her car. Whew. Good thing I didn't step on the pedal, or I'd have crashed into him. Oh, it's

Frank again. Gods, he's persistent.